


Where Mortals Roam

by bristow



Series: Where Mortals Roam [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Drama, F/M, Future Fic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Spies & Secret Agents, Suspense, Thriller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-25
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2017-12-24 14:17:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bristow/pseuds/bristow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth. New York City. In the distant future, former CIA Hitman James Kirk is arrested for a murder he didn't commit. Determined to clear his name, Kirk begins a journey into the dark and mystical underworld of America, confronting a world that he never knew existed and a man that would change it all. Star Trek XI Spy AU. <b>Indefinite hiatus.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So It Begins

NYCPD Interview File 01478

"Mr Kirk, do you know why you're here?"  
"No. I don't know what any of you are doing here! You should be out there, searching for that son of a-"  
"Mr Kirk."  
"He's out there, dammit! I know that, you know that!"  
"I don't know that."  
"That's right, cause I did it."  
"Are you confessing, James?"  
"What? Hell no!"  
"Then what are you saying?"  
"What are you saying?!"  
"This isn't about me, Mr. Kirk."  
"No, no. You see, this is all about you. What you think I did, what you say I did or didn't do."  
"Calm down Mr. Kirk."  
"Stop 'Mr. Kirking' me!"  
"Just calm-"  
"And don't tell me to be calm, damn you!"  
"Get in here! Sir, just-"  
"If you say 'calm' one more time, you son of a-"

NYCPD Interview File 01479

"Ok, James let's start again."  
"You're a big one, aren't you?"  
"And you have one hell of a right hook, Kirk."  
"Is it broken?"  
"He'll live."  
"Damn."  
"Cut the crap, Kirk-"  
"No, you cut the crap! This is crap, this is all-"  
"Crap?"  
"See, you're getting it now! Smart man. See you really can't judge book by it's mug shot."  
"You're just making it harder for yourself, Kirk you've gotta know that! The more you delay-"  
"No, you listen! The more you all delay the further and further away he gets!"  
"Who gets, Kirk?"  
"What haven't any of you been listening to me!? I don't blame the other guy, he had mental problems-"  
"Kirk!"  
"-the man who killed her, that's who! The real killer is out there!"  
"Oh no, not this time Kirk! You're not getting away again, not on my watch! The killer is sitting right in front of me and don't think you can use your little parlour games on me, buddy. I know your kind, all big and tough and so much better than us cops. Well buddy, daddy isn't here now so you'd better just shut the hell up and-"

NYCPD Interview File 01480

"This really isn't going to work, is it Mr. Kirk?"  
"You really should have thought of these before."  
"True. You're one tough cookie, James."  
"Is it broken?"  
"Which one?"  
"Either."  
"You think you're one tough guy don't you James? In my experience tough guys like you are tough for a reason. What's your reason, James?"  
"Let's just say I'm not a people person."  
"Oh I don't believe that James, and neither do you."  
"What do you know?"  
"Only what you've told me, James. That you didn't kill Doctor Marcus."  
"You're telling me you believe me?"  
"You're telling me you don't?"  
"You tell me."  
"I'll tell you what, James, I have a whole squad room of cops out there who are just screaming at me for your blood, one way or another. I have a lot of pressure riding on me, Mr. Kirk."  
"I feel for you."  
"They all seem to believe that you killed Doctor Marcus."  
"And why is that? Just because I was handy at the time? Or was it my story that they don't believe?"  
"Which one?"  
"You tell me?"  
"All right. You claim that you came home from work, found Miss Marcus' body on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by blood. You went to her, and were knocked unconscious by an unknown source before your training could kick in and tell you that someone else was in the room?"  
"I dunno, the body on the floor kinda threw me there for a awhile, it could happen to anybody."  
"You, must admit that it's pretty far fetched at best."  
"Let me tell you something this time."  
"Shoot."  
"If only I could believe me, I would."  
"Noted. Go on."  
"You believe my story, every word. You believe that I was telling the truth finding Carol….like that. And you believe I'm innocent."  
"Really? And how do you know that?"  
"Because, I'm still here and not out there with the animals."  
"Careful, Mr. Kirk. I'm one of those 'animals'."  
"Are you really? Prove it."  
"You know what, I think I've found your reason."  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
"Maybe. But let me tell you this: it's a tough world out there. There's a whole lot more going on here than you realize."  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"You figure that one out, Mr. Kirk. You're the tough guy round here."  
"Where are you going?"  
"To let the animals in."  
End of recordings.

*****

"He's an idiot."  
"True, but he's my idiot."  
"You're sure about this, Pike?"  
"I'm sure."  
"And you think he's innocent?"  
"I think that you should do what you're told, Coffin, or you'll be in one."  
"Cute, never heard that one before."  
"Can you do it or not? I hear Hopper's out, maybe he-"  
"Ok, ok. I'll do it, never said I wouldn't just seeing if you still cared."  
"Who said I did? He's being transported on Friday at noon, to Greyson's. It's your job to get him off that transport and to the drop-off point, alive and in one piece. Hardy will do the rest."  
"Just like old times."  
"Yes it is. Unless you fail, Ray."  
"Have I ever failed you before?"  
"You really want me to answer that?"  
"Are you armed?"  
"When am I not?"  
"Then no, don't answer that. Don't worry, I won't fail you. I'll get your guy out and in one piece, don't worry."  
"I trust you, Ray. And I trust James. He didn't kill Carol, he couldn't. He loved her too much."  
"I know that you trust him, and I trust you. But he'll have to prove himself to me before I trust him."  
"Understood. Just promise me, Ray."  
"What?"  
"That you'll let him try."


	2. Intrusion

The room was an electrifying mix of blue and white strobe lights, electronic noises resembling music and people crushing each other on both sides, some drinking liquids of various colours and potencies, some dancing and others just… there. Not that he really cared anyway, he couldn’t hear anything except what he wanted to. It was only the lights that he didn’t like, too bright and changing, flashing in his eyes much like if he’d been on some drug induced trip. Not that he’d know what that felt like… Bones looked around him, taking in everything that he saw and tuning out what he didn’t need to. Drunk guys on left, stupid but not dangerous. Girls drinking some florescent pink thing that looked more than half radioactive on the right, about to pass out but again not dangerous, unless they fell on someone. Tourists getting shanghaied in the corner, dancers in opposite, snappy dressers with hidden mikes and guns to the side. Now that was what he wanted. No one else milled around that corner, no dancers or drunk guys. Just two guys in sunglasses and stoic faces, guarding a seemingly empty patch of wall. Bones looked around him again; making sure no one saw his objective. He adjusted his mike and made his way through the crowded club, dodging hands and elbows and the occasional,  
“Ow! Gees, lady. What are those things made of, razor blades?” He winced as the woman’s heel dug through his $500 dollar shoes and right into his $2 socks, “Would you mind?” She turned her head slowly down at his shoe and withdrew her heel.  
“Sorry, oh gosh! I’m so sorry!” She slurred as she tipped slightly, turning around fully. Bones sighed. Great, just what I need.  
“Don’t mention it.” He glanced over at the two guys who were peering around the crowd in their direction. Now how the hell did they hear her? “Really, it’s fine. Forget it.”  
“No, no! I won’t! I think I drank too much.” She giggled and tipped a little towards Bones. He rolled his eyes. There was something vaguely familiar about Blondie, but he didn’t have either the time or inclination to wonder what.  
“You don’t say?”  
“Oh, does it show?” Bones glanced at the woman’s face from the studying off his stabbed shoe. She was perfectly serious. On anyone else, it’ll be called sarcasm. On her it was drunkisim, plain and simple.  
“Hardly.”  
“I’m Candy, by the way.” She said holding out her hand. Bones peered over her blonde hair at the two men who were still peering casually in their direction.   
“Cindy.” Bones said, absently taking her hand.  
“Yeah. No! Candy.” She said giggling again, “Ooops.” Candy fell suddenly forward into Bones’ arms. He took a step back to steady himself as he heaved her up slightly. He sighed as she went almost completely limp in his arms.  
“Great, just great.” He looked around him, “What am I, a babysitter?” He dragged her to her feet, taking her by the arms and swinging her around, grabbing her under her arms to stop her from falling. Swinging her arm over his shoulder, Bones readjusted Candy’s weight as her head slumped against his shoulder. A slow smile spread over her face as he slowly manoeuvred his way through the crowd.  
“You smell nice.” She murmured. Bones raised his eyebrows as he half dragged her over to the side wall where several small tables and chairs sat.  
“Yeah, thanks. You too.”  
“Really?” She asked looking up at Bones, slumping slightly again, “I do?”  
“Not really.”  
“Oh, you’re funny too.” She patted Bones on the cheek as he deposited her in a chair against the wall.  
“Thanks.” He pushed her gently against the wall, in a corner so she was surrounded on both sides. She smiled her head tilting from side to side.  
“I think I love you.” Bones rolled his eyes again as even his best efforts at ‘propping her up’ failed miserably. In a blink of an eye she was on the ground with a thump. A sudden noise from the side of the small, black partition that blocked the table from the two men that he’d seen before made Bones duck behind it, with his back pressed against the wall. The two men came rushing around, making a beeline for Candy. Bones pushed himself even further against the wall as they looked around, probably for him. He flattened himself as much as possible, inching his way through the impossibly small space between the wall and partition, holding his breath as he squeezed himself through the last gap and into freedom. He breathed in deep as he looked around. So far so good. The good and apparently dumb guardians of the wall were nowhere to be seen. He turned back around to the wall scanning it up and down before a small, white panel caught his attention. Reaching to his left, he swiped his hand over it, breathing a sigh of relief when it opened, revealing a darkened corridor leading to a two way fork at the end. He ducked inside and swiped the corresponding panel on the inside, stepping to the side as the door closed without a sound. He glanced down the corridor straining to hear even the faintest sound and more than half expecting an alarm to sound any minute. Though the local gangs weren’t really known for their expert security still, surely someone would hear or see him. He inched along the wall, wishing that he’d brought his gun along with him. But even the gang’s security wasn’t that bad. Besides, this wasn’t really a gun job. At least it wasn’t supposed to be. In, out, payed and a nice dish of macaroni and cheese to finish off a job well done. Bones reached the end of the hall, slowly peering around the corner, just enough to look either way and quickly withdrawing it again as two men in lab coats came into view. “Crap.” He muttered, glancing down the right-side corridor. It was empty and darker than the other one, with only two doors, one on the left and one on the end, in plain view of the approaching men. Bones sighed again, weighing his options over in his mind. Get in somehow, get the target and get out in one piece, or get killed, or at least the threat of being killed anyway. Better make that one option. Bones took a deep breath and backed up slowly, glancing behind him to make sure the coast was clear and then facing straight ahead. He cocked his head to the side and took a deep breath. “Now or never.” He strode towards the end of the hall again, glancing to his left to see the two guys stopped in front of one of the doors down the hall. He turned his face away, casually scratching his neck in hopes the corridor was too dark and they’d sampled too much of their products to know the difference between him and the guards. He turned right and headed towards the door at the end in record time without looking like he was running. Which of course, he never did anyway. at least not of his own free will. He reached the door and glanced behind him, just in time to see two white lab coats enter a door and disappear. He turned back around to the door, looking it up and down. Standard door, if not an older model. Simple black metal, one handle, no padlock. Just a biometric keypad. He glanced behind him again as he withdrew his gloves, the ones he’d been wearing when he’d ‘accidently’ bumped into one of the gang guys in the bar. Snapping it on, he placed his finger on the pad, holding his breath as it seemed to take hours till it finally turned green, signalling that he’d picked the right guy. He quickly ducked inside, closing and locking the door behind him. He took off his glove and headed over to the computer console and his target. Now for the in and out part. He touched the power button on the touch screen, wincing slightly as the bright light of the monitor came to life. He entered the code required, quickly gaining entrance into the mainframe and where he needed to be. Everything was going according to plan. So far… “Crap.” Bones whispered as his mike began buzzing in his ear. He pressed the small earpiece, quickly getting back to work.  
“What?” He barked.  
“Ray? It’s Pike.” Bones swore under his breath.  
“Not a good time, Pike.”  
“Busy Ray?” Bones couldn’t help but wince at the name Pike used for him. Ray. Oh how he hated Ray.   
“No, no. Just watching the game.”  
“Good. Because I’ve got something for you to see.”  
“What, now?”  
“It won’t take a minute. Hang on.”  
“Pike, I’m not at hom-“ Bones’ argument was interrupted as a video from the NYCPD popped up on the screen in front of him. “Whoa!” He said, holding his hands away, “How the Hell did you do that?”  
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” Bones rolled his eyes.  
“Yeah, sure. Cute.”  
“Just watch it white you continue on with your…game.” Bones continued typing watching out of the corner of his eye as an interview tape played from the NYCPD’s infamous ‘quiet’ room, a place where cops took the prisoners in whole and they came out…not so whole, and all without a sound. But this guy was different, he was giving them Hell. He couldn’t help but chuckle as the guy broke hit one of the cops square in the nose, red blood squirting out as the tape and the cops flashed out of view.  
“Spunky kid, who is he?”  
“His name is James Kirk and he’s one of us.”  
“Really? A night watchman too huh, what are the odds.”  
“Yes,” Pike said slowly, “A night watchman. He needs your help.”  
“He seems to be helping himself alright.”  
“He’ll need you soon.”  
“Yeah well I-“ Suddenly Bones noticed a light spilling in from under the bottom crack of the door. Damn, why hadn’t he noticed that before?  
“I’ll have to get back to you.”  
“Trouble?”  
“What else?” Bones switched off his mike as the video shut down, leaving only the status bar of the download Bones was in the middle of. 65% and climbing, slowly. Bones glanced at the door again. Now shadows blocked the light, signalling that people were outside waiting. What for? For him to come out? Yeah, not gonna happen. Not yet. 68%, 69%. “Come on, come on.” He muttered as the bar finally ticked over to 70% then 72%. He glanced at the door again. “Come on!” 85%, 87%. More shadows lined the door and Bones heard a faint click. 90%, 92%, 95%. “Come on.” The screen started flashing blue, signalling the ending of his download but that’s not what Bones noticed the most. The shadows disappeared from the door as Bones stood up from the chair and to the side of the desk. A final click sounded as the light faded, sending the room back into total darkness before the door flew off the frame and towards Bones with a massive bang, sending sparks and flames into the room. “Oh, shit!”

******

James Kirk squinted as yet another drop of blood ran into his eye, sending his vision into a hazy shade of something resembling a sickening shade of red. He slowly raised his cuffed hands to wipe the blood away before anymore made its way into his already blurry eyes. He restrained the urge to wince at the stabbing pain in his probably dislocated shoulder that the action induced, lest his captors feel any sense of pride in their job, excellent and thorough that it was. That should teach him not to beat up a couple of cops. Yeah, maybe not. He wiped away a trail of blood before it reached his eyes only succeeding in somehow making it worse, as another trail ran into both eyes, almost completely ‘redding’ his vision. He dropped his arms, trying in vain to hide the wince that came with the action. The man across from him smiled a smile that Jim wasn’t used to seeing on anyone else but himself. Satisfaction at a job well done, the sick kind. The kind that shrinks loved to analyse and proclaim ‘disturbing and defiantly unnatural’. And looking at the guy sitting across from him, Jim had to agree. It really did look disturbing.   
“Doesn’t feel so good when the shoe’s on the other foot, ‘eh Kirk?”  
“I dunno it’s not so bad. I get to look at your beautiful smile don’t I?”  
“Always with the jokes, Kirk? Why? What have you got left to prove?”  
“I don’t know, intelligence maybe? At least I seem to have that one covered.” Jim’s head banged against the side of the van, as the man’s punch connected with the side of his face. He staggered off the seat, crashing to one knee, as the other twisted painfully under. His vision blacked out and a fresh wave of blood poured out of the latest wound. He gagged slightly as the foul stream connected with his open mouth and he twisted his head to the side, spitting out the blood as he shakily lifted off his knee and back onto the seat of the van. He fell backwards, his head hitting the side of the van with a thud louder him than it probably was. He shook his head, his vision slowly returning to normal, squinting his eyes again in an effort to somehow dim the painful throbbing in his head.  
“My mistake.” He mumbled, spitting out more blood as the man laughed. “I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud, was I?”  
“You piece of shi-“  
“Miller.” The man paused, arm in mid-air as the van’s door opened revealing Kirk’s interviewer, the only one he hadn’t broken anything on. Yet… “I’ll take it from here.” Miller growled as he glared at Kirk, before jumping out of the van. Kirk leaned forward resting his head in his cuffed hands as the other man stepped into the van and shut the door behind him, blocking out the brilliant glare of the sun. “That’s quite a gash.”  
“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Jim slowly raised his head, wiping some blood from his mouth and sending little droplets to the floor.  
“Really? Because from where I’m sitting it looks terrible.”  
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have a crappy bedside manner?” The man smiled and withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it out for Jim take. “Why are you here?”  
“Take it.” Jim glanced at the man’s stoic face, reaching forward to take the offered cloth. He grabbed it and fell backwards, too exhausted to even bother trying to hide the wince this time.   
“Didn’t know people owned these things anymore.”  
“I’m not like other people. Is it broken?”  
“No, not quite. Sorry to disappoint you.”  
“That doesn’t disappoint me. There’s always later.” Jim couldn’t help but smile.  
“You’re good.” He said, pointing at the man. He leaned forward again, using the cloth to wipe some of the blood from his face. “Why are you helping me?”  
“Maybe you’re right, maybe I believe you.”  
“Do you?”  
“Maybe.”  
“Maybe.” Jim repeated nodding slightly as he leaned backwards again, moving his head to the side so his shoulder wasn’t cramped against the wall.   
“We all have jobs to do, James. We all have bosses to answer to, tasks to perform.”  
“Not me. I’m retired, remember?”  
“Right,” The man said nodding and looking at the ground, “Retired. You do realize you’re bloodying my new van don’t you?”  
“Sorry, I’ll bring my own wipe next time.” The man smiled at Jim, before getting up. “Want this back?” Jim asked, holding out the now red handkerchief.  
“No, you keep it. With my compliments.” He opened the door and jumped out, turning back to face Jim. “Good luck out there.”  
“Where exactly?”  
“You’ll find out. Just…” The man shut the door partly, “Don’t get yourself killed.”  
“Who are you anyway?” The man paused looking up at Kirk one last time as he shut the door.  
“The name’s Spock.”


	3. Connections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this has taken so long to update, nearly two months! I'm so ashamed!! I'll be trying to update this at least twice a month now.

_NYCPD Training Facility, New York City, 2050 AD._

“Take it easy, cupcake.”

“What did you call me?”

“What you deaf as well as ugly?”

“Have you got a death wish kid?”

“Come on, cupcake that all you got?” Kirk chuckled softly around a mouth full of blood, nodding as he wiped the blood from his mouth onto his uniform. “Now that's more like it.” He swung at the larger man, connecting hard with his jaw and sending a stream of blood from his lower lip. The man staggered slightly backward, cursing as he grabbed at Kirk's shirt. He pulled him closer, placing both hands round Kirk's neck.

“You're going to pay for that, you little piece of shit!” Jim grabbed the man’s hands, gasping for air as he desperately tried to pry the hands from his neck. The man smiled, his teeth stained red from blood. “Give it but can't take huh, _cupcake_?”

“Hey!” Kirk glanced to the side where a man in a suit stood watching, half with annoyance and half with amusement. “Let him go!” The hands quickly dropped from his neck and Jim collapsed to the floor, one hand outstretched to steady himself while the other clawed at his shirt collar. He watched as cupcake stood to an awkward attention, shifting nervously side to side. “That's better.” The man said, looking at Kirk with an amused smile on his face, “Help him up.” Cupcake opened his mouth as if to speak but closed it quickly, bending down and heaving Jim roughly to his feet. Jim staggered slightly pushing away from the man. “Good,” the man said, glancing at Jim again, “Now, hit him.”

“I'm sorry, what?” Jim said, still trying to catch his breath. The man looked at Jim, a strange half-smile on his face.

“You heard me, kid. _Hit him_.” Cupcake paused before turning towards Jim with a smile on his face.

“Yes sir!” He swung hard, connecting with Jim's nose, which promptly cracked. Jim grabbed his nose with both hands, teetering slightly as his vision blurred slightly.

“Just who the _Hell_ are you?” Jim demanded, blinking several times to make the man with the half-smile come back into focus. He said nothing, as he turned away glancing at Jim one last time before walking away. “Wha-“ Jim stammered, looking at cupcake who stood grinning at him. Jim quickly walked after the other man, leaving a grinning cupcake behind him. “Hey, wait!” He caught up with him, falling into step beside him, gingerly pressing his broken nose.

“Who are you man?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?”

“Yeah, I kinda would. I haven't seen you around here before.”

“Look just because I saved your butt doesn't mean I wanna talk to ya kid.”

“Wait a minute,” Jim said stepping in front of him to block his path. The man stopped, rolling his eyes and looking away. “How is ordering a mountain of a man to break my nose saving me? He could have killed me!” He turned his head and looked at Jim.

“Yes,” he said slowly, “He would have. If I hadn't stopped him from choking you. You're welcome.” He stepped around Jim.

“Wait, wait, who are you?” Jim asked again. The man sighed and turned back around.

“McCoy, Leonard McCoy.” He turned back around and walked away.

 

**********

 

_Unknown location, 2056 AD_.

Bones awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright, his breaths jagged. He looked down at his legs, a shooting pain cascading down his left side. A large white bandage covered his left knee and a dark red blotch stained the middle. He could feel the bandage stuck to his skin as he moved his leg, wincing as the movement caused another shoot of pain up his leg. He gingerly touched the bandage, turning his knee slightly to the side. He sighed, looking around the dark and musty room, like so many others he’d been in before. He carefully swung his legs over the side, holding his leg as he placed both feet on the floor. He released the breath he didn’t know he was holding, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes slowly.

“You should really rest awhile, tough guy.” He glanced up, sighing slightly, “You've been lying on that thing for a week.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too.” Bones chucked, pushing himself forward slightly, gradually putting more weight on his leg.

“Don't kid yourself Mike.”

“Really, is this all I get for saving your butt again mister? You'd have been a goner if I wasn't there. One more inch and that explosion would've taken out a lot more than a chunk of your knee.”

“Again?” Bones asked, raising his eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know you were counting.” Mike smiled, tossing Bones a black tee-shirt.

“You really shouldn't fall for the old blonde trick, not more than once anyway.” She said, crossing her arms. She watched as Bones rolled his eyes again, wincing slightly as he pulled the shirt over his head.

“Make yourself useful.” He said, holding out his hand. Mike went over, slinging Bones' arm over her shoulder and wrapping her arm around his waist. Bones put all his weight on his right leg, staggering slightly as he stood up. Mike gripped his arm tighter in an effort to steady him, as Bones slowly put some weight on his left leg. He took a painful step, gritting his teeth. He grabbed the wall to help steady himself. “Thanks.” He said through gritted teeth, dropping his arm from around Mike's shoulders.

“Don't mention it.” He glanced down at her.

“And I'm sorry about-“

“It's ok.” She interrupted, smiling softly. “Really. Don’t even think about it.” She backed slowly away, turning to go.

“Nyota.” She turned to face him, a surprised look on her face. “Thank you.” She smiled softly, turning back around and walking away. Bones watched her go, shifting his weight and looking down at his leg.

“Week?” He muttered, “Wait a minute, week? Dammit! Mike?” He started to move after her but only got a step before his leg seized up in pain. He gripped his leg and half fell back onto the bed. “Dammit woman! Where are my pants?” He groaned as he began to push himself back up again, his hand hitting something cool as he reached out to lean on the small table next to the bed for support. He sat back down, picking up the padd that sat on the dusty table. He slid the small button to turn it on, wincing as the bright light lit up the dark room. A series of screens opened, news reports about the murder of Carol Marcus, as well as several Government reports, official and otherwise. Bones selected the most recent video, a report on the Marcus case. A young woman talked about the recent developments of the case, as Bones scanned the images that came with it. He paused as a picture of James Kirk appeared on his screen, an official CIA portrait taken over six years ago. The face of young Kirk looked back at Bones, complete with a band aide on his nose and dried red around it. Bones stared at the image, everything coming to life in his mind. “ _Cupcake_.” He muttered, as the news reporter's voice continued to drone on.

“And as of this morning, the whereabouts of James Kirk is unknown. His transport was ambushed last week, on its way to New York City Central Courts. All but one of the guards escorting Kirk were killed, with the remaining guard only yesterday coming out of a comma.” The screen flashed to a picture of a bloody man lying on a hospital bed, all bruised and battered, before flashing back to the reporter, “As for the attackers, they’re believed to be a group of Kirk's last known associates, the Unit, an Underground organization rumored to be associated with the infamous Hendrik Maneuver, ambushed the transport, rescuing Kirk and slaughtering the officers escorting him in a brazen display of strength. And as for Kirk? Heaven may, but we might never know. This is Nora Prescott, NYCSynced.” Bones turned the padd off, gripping it tightly in his hands till he had no feeling left in them.

“Unit. Shit. _Shit_!” He threw the padd against the wall, shattering it into tiny pieces. Mike stood in the doorway, watching him cautiously, her arms crossed. “Unit.” Bones said, looking her. “He was with Unit. Some damn punk of a kid, ex-CIA and who the Hell knows what else and now he was with Unit.”

“I know.”

“I bet you do.” Bones repeated, “Mike, why didn't you tell me? I thought you of all-“

“Don't, don't you dare.”

“I'm sorry.” Bones sighed, rubbing his eyes again, wincing as his leg continued to throb in protest.

“Here,” she held out a back pack and jacket from the nearby chair, “I guess you'll need these if you're gonna find him. If you still want to that is.” Bones took the things and looked down, swallowing hard.

“I have a job to do, and I’ll do it. Dead or alive.”

“You can find him, right?” Bones shrugged.

“It's what I do, isn't it?”

“And you'll keep him alive? For Pike?” He glanced up at Mike.

“We'll see.”


	4. Uninvited

_Shiloh House, London, 2056 AD._

"Are you sure about this?"  
  
"Look you've asked me that ten times already!"  
  
"Well, are you?"  
  
"Yes, I'm sure. Now shut up, I'm thinking."  
  
"Could you think a little harder, it's cold out here."  
  
"You cold? I thought you were from Russia?"  
  
"Cute. Are you in yet?"  
  
"Almost there. Hang on." Pavel looked around him at the snow covered ground surrounding the house. Laughter and strained jazz music drifted through the door as he blew on his hands, rubbing them back and forth to keep at least some feeling in them. He leaned slightly backwards, checking that nobody was coming down the street, especially no cops.  
  
"What about now?" He asked, an empty silence coming thru his comm the only response. "Sulu? Now?"  
  
"Do you see an open door?" Pavel sighed and walked towards the end of the building, peering out and looking side to side. The fog was thick in the air and flecks of whiteish grey snow wafted down from the black sky, picking up gradually momentum. He squinted as he looked left, rubbing his hands together and wishing that he'd worn gloves. He glanced right as he turned to head back to the door when an approaching figure caught his eye.  
  
" _Crap._ " He whispered turning and sprinting back to the door.  
  
"What is it?" Sulu asked thru the comm.  
  
"I've got company."  
  
"Shit, where'd he come from?"  
  
"I don't know. Just open ze door!"  
  
"Hang on, almost got it." Pavel looked towards the end of the building, hearing footsteps even amidst the noise of the gathering snow storm. "Got it!" Pavel reached for the door handle and swung it open, shutting it quickly behind him. He leaned against the door, glancing out of the small window next to it as the policeman came into focus, pausing at the edge of the building and looking down where only moments before Pavel had been, before disappearing back into the night. "Pavel, are you ok?"  
  
Pavel let out a breathe and closed his eyes.  
  
"Ya," he said, "No thanks to you."  
  
"Hey, that door didn't open by it's self did it?"  
  
"Ok, thanks a little to you. But make it quicker next time ok?"  
  
"Deal. Now get in there. You have five minutes in and out. I'll meet you there."  
  
"Got it. See you then." Pavel reached up to his ear, pressing the tiny button that silenced his comm, as he headed into the house. The noises became louder as he got closer to the party, turning from a darkened corridor and opening the door, entering into a brightly lit hallway. He stepped out and closed the door behind him, adjusting his collar on his tux. People passed him by without even a glance and he smiled and walked past them till he reached a stairway. Turning his back to it, he glanced around, glancing at his watch and shaking his head as a couple passed him by. Once they'd passed, he gave one more glance before ducking under the scarlet rope that cordoned off the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. He reached the top, turning automatically to the left, going over the plan that he and Sulu had gone over time and time again in his mind. He reached the end of the hall, glancing at his watch. 4 minutes twenty-three remaining. He glanced up, just in time to collide with a maid as she came around the corner.  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry sir!" She said dropping her pile of towels onto the floor, "I didn't see you there."  
  
"That's alright." Pavel said, laughing softly, "I never watch where I'm going."  
  
"You really shouldn't be up here sir."  
  
"Da. I know." Pavel said, nodding, "I'm looking for my daughter, small thing," he held up his hand around his waist, "So high, black hair. Crystal's her name, about five. Slipped away when her mother wasn't looking. Must have come up here, she can't resist going places she shouldn't. Have you seen her around here?"  
  
"No, no," the maid said shaking her head, a worried look on her face, "I haven't sir. But I've been in the master's bedroom making up the bed. She could have gone into one of the other rooms I dare say."  
  
"Da. That she could have." Pavel said nodding vigorously, "I don't suppose you could help me look for her? It's getting late and it's a strange house and all."  
  
"Oh, yes sir!" The maid said, "I have a little one my self, so I understand completely. I'll look down there."  
  
"And I'll look down here." Pavel pointed in the direction that the maid had just come from, "In case she ducked into one of those rooms, like you said."  
  
"Right." The maid said, nodding and walking past Pavel, "Oh and sir, don't be looking in the room at the end. That's Miss Poppy's room and is always locked, so there's no way she could have gotten in there." Pavel turned and looked down the hall, pointing to the end and glancing at the maid with a questioning look.  
  
"At the end?" The maid nodded and Pavel nodded back, walking slowly backwards, "Right thank you so much." The maid smiled and hurried down the other hall, Pavel watching her until she'd disappeared into a room. He quickly turned around and headed straight to the end room. Retrieving a small padd from his pocket, he held it up to the keypad next to the door, pressing a button and waiting impatiently as the padd's screen flashed blue and red and finally green. The door clicked open, and Pavel quickly went in, closing it quietly behind him. The room was pitch black, save for a tiny sliver of light coming thru the window from the streetlight outside. He pressed a button on his padd and held it slightly up, watching as it went to work, detecting any electronics in the room indicating where the hidden access panel to the Shiloh vault might be. Finally it homed in on a small painting of the Eiffel Tower Monument on the wall closest to the window. Pavel smiled and pocketed the padd, reaching up and feeling around the painting. His fingers hit a small latch and he carefully pressed it. The picture swung open, revealing a small vault built into the wall.  
  
"Bingo." He withdrew another device from his pocket, a small cylinder and held it up to the vault. After a few agonizing seconds, the vaults seven circles lit up in a dark shade of pink, signaling the vaults successful opening. Pavel shrugged, and opened the vault. He carefully retrieved a small envelope and opened the seal, emptying the contents onto his hand. A clear disc fell out, no writing of any kind, only a small diagram in the center. Pavel put the disc into his pocket and put the envelope back, his hands pausing on the vault door as a noise sounded outside. Loud voices drifted thru, laughing as they neared the door. Pavel groaned and quickly closed the vault, closing the painting. He rushed to the door, his hand paused over the doorknob. The voices became louder as an electronic sound indicated the door was being opened. He turned back around and ran into the middle of the room, looking desperately around to find a place to hide. The door began to open and he dashed towards the adjoining room, rushing in and closing the door, leaving it open a crack. Two women came in, staggering slightly as they laughed.  
  
"Did you hear that?" The first women asked, looking around the room, "I thought I heard something."  
  
"I didn't hear anything." The second one said, shrugging, "Must have been that drink you had."  
  
"Which one? I lost count around ten." They both laughed and Pavel sighed, closing the door more as they headed further into the room. He looked around him, noticing a window that he could use if absolutely necessary. Suddenly a meow sounded and Pavel started, looking down where a small black cat sat in the middle of the room, staring at him.  
  
"Was that Mittens?" The first women asked. Pavel put his finger to his lips, shaking his head vigorously at the cat. It meowed again, looking up at him with curiosity. He groaned as it become louder and footsteps came towards the room. "I think she's in there." He let go of the door and rushed towards the window, twisting the handle to try and open it. It jiggled and moved slightly, a loud creak sounding in the room. "I think someone's in there!"  
  
 _"Shit!"_ Pavel said, pulling the window all the way up and climbing out onto the ledge, the bitter cold of the night hitting him full on.  
  
"Hey!" The two women burst into the room and Pavel leaped into the darkness, landing hard into the snow below. He quickly pushed himself up, stumbling down the alleyway leading to freedom. The two women leaned out of the window, pointing and yelling after him. Pavel picked up speed, limping slightly as a sharp pain shot up his left side from his ankle. He winced, grabbing his leg as he tried to run faster. He reached the end of the alleyway and turned a corner, stopping short as two men saw him and yelled.  
  
"Shit! _Shit!_ " He turned the other way, making it as far as two steps before a shot sounded out, and he stumbled, hitting the ground face first. He pushed himself up slightly, gasping for breath. Snow hit him, stinging his skin. He rolled painfully to his side, looking down at the white snow slowing turning red. He reached down and touched his side, his hand stained red as everything slowly became blurred. He looked up, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as the two men came to stand over him, snickering at him.  
  
"Bye-bye mate." He raised his gun level to Pavel's eyes. He sighed, looking down as the snow became redder amidst the blur.  
  
"Here we go again."

  


**********

  


_Somewhere in London, 2056 AD._  
  
Jim awoke with a start, spitting out the foul water that suddenly flooded his mouth.  
  
"About time." A female voice said. He blinked as a bright light suddenly turned on, aimed directly at his face.  
  
"I'm a sound sleeper." He said, his words coming out sluggishly. He worked his jaw, stiff and painful, as water continued to drip off his face.  
  
"That you are. Are you afraid of needles?" Jim squinted into the darkness.  
  
"No, but I have a thing with hypos. I know this light loves me."  
  
"It's necessary."  
  
"Ok." Jim said, ducking his head slightly and moving his shoulders, starting in pain as a sharp needle pierced the back of his neck. He tried to sit up, but two strong hands clamped down on his shoulders, pushing his head back down.  
  
"I'm glad you don't mind needles." The women said from behind him, as the needle plunged deeper into his skin, "Because this one hurts, just a little."  
  
"Yeah, I got that."  
  
"This is a strain of the _Barstow Virus_. I'm sure you've heard of it, your late girlfriend Doctor Marcus worked on it I believe."  
  
The needle was pulled out sharply, and Jim was pushed back into his chair, a trickle of blood going down his neck. "It has a unique way if infecting its victims." He looked down at his hands as two men began untying him from the chair, his eyes beginning to haze over. He tried to blink them back, looking back to where the voice came from. "It attacks every blood vessel in your body, not destroying them. Just pushing them up and out of your body in every way possible. Painful and rather slow. You'll bleed for awhile and then it'll stop, just for awhile. Then it'll start again, out of nowhere, and you'll bleed. Bleed till you're dry."  
  
"I have a feeling that you had an unhappy childhood." Jim rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his hands, as warm blood slowly began to seep.  
"It's already started. You must have rich blood."  
  
"Who are you?" Jim slurred.  
  
"That doesn't matter." The woman appeared in front of him, "Don't worry, you won't feel it for much longer." Jim opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He fell off the chair, hitting the ground face first. He tried to push himself back up as his vision blurred bright red, but he fell back down. Blood began to pour out of his nose and ears, slowly covering his eyes and face, the warmth tingling his skin. The light turned off just as suddenly as it had turned on, leaving Jim in the pitch black. He moved his hands, trying desperately to move. But the black won, as he closed his eyes.


	5. Electric

_Somewhere in NYC, 2056_

“I don't care what you do to me, I'm not saying anything.”

“Ok, that's fine. And very admirable Grant. May I call you Grant?”

“No, no. I-I'd rather you not.”

“And why's that?”

“Well A. you're gonna kill me later, and I hope it's later rather than- you know, sooner? B. my name's Harry. And C. you're gonna kill me.”

“Harry, right. So... where's Grant?”

“I don't- I don't know where- Oh, I see. No way! You're not getting that outta me! Uh-uh, no way.”

“So you know where he is then?”

“Ah...no. Grant? Grant, no. No, I don't think I know a...George? Was it George?”

“Grant.”

“Right! Grant, no uh, don't know him. Nope. No...Grant.”

“Hmm. Not that's funny, cause his name badge is right there.”

“Name...”

“Badge, yes. There.”

“Right...Oh, yeah! Grant. Right, good 'ol Grant. Hell of a guy! Love- I love that guy. Well, not-not, you know, 'love' love. Just metaphorically love, not-”

“Where is he Harry?”

“I don't... think I should tell you.”

“But you know, right?”

“No?”

“Right. And I think you're jumping to a bit of a conclusion there, Harry. What makes you think I'm gonna kill you?” McCoy stepped out of the partial shadows, stepping over a thick electricity cord that led from the nearby wall, snaking it's way to the chair that Harry was currently strapped to. He winced slightly at the pain in the leg, intensifying seemingly with his every move.

“Ah...just a hunch. You hurt?” McCoy looked up at Harry.

“No, no. I'm good.” He crouched down and gave the last tug on the cord, satisfied that it was securely attached.

“Do you ever smile?” McCoy glanced up Harry again as he slowly stood up, shaking his head slightly.

“You're strapped to a chair with enough bolts of electricity running thru it to kill you – if that's what it were there for of course -”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.”

“- and you're asking if I ever smile?”

“I'm funny like that, you know. Whenever I'm in life-or-death situations I-I, you know ask q-questions that, are...ah, pointless and- you really are gonna kill me aren't you?”

“I don't have to.” McCoy calmly stood in front of the chair, crossing his arms. “Where's Grant?” Harry swallowed, looking around him at the cords that were attached to the chair.

“This is about that Kirk fella isn't it?” McCoy sighed.

“Where's Grant, Harry?”

“If I tell you, you'll just find him, torture him and then, you know, kill him! Probably slowly and painfully, cause you're that kinda guy. I can tell. I know you, Coffin. Everybody in our business knows you! Grant's my partner and you never flip on your partner. What kinda idiot do you think I am?”

“I dunno. What kind are you?” McCoy withdrew a small box out of his jacket pocket.

“What's that?” McCoy turned it over in his hands, switching a small, black switch up on the side.

“Just a remote.” He replied, flipping up another switch as the cords came to life, blue streams shooting thru them to the chair, several electronic bars lighting up on the arms of the chair signaling the powering up process had begun.

“You're insane!”

“Grant?” McCoy asked calmly, flipping another switch till only one remained.

“Yeah, go Hell Coffin!”

“Ok,” He said, placing his thumb on the last switch and turning around to face away from Harry, “You and me both.” He turned fully around, holding out the small box to the side so Harry could see it as he flipped the last switch. He slowly lowered his thumb, listening as the hum of the electric currents as they steadily became louder.

“Ok! Ok, stop it! Stop!” McCoy turned around and walked over to Harry, pushing down on the chair arms so that it came forward with a jerk, Harry's face mere inches from his own.

“Where. Is. Grant?”

“I can't tell you that.” Harry said. McCoy let go of the chair, raising the box again.

“Your funeral.”

“No! Don't do that, you son of a- I can't tell you where Grant is. But I can tell you where Kirk is. Or where someone who knows where Kirk is..is.” McCoy leaned down face to face with Harry.

“I'm listening.” Harry swallowed, looking warily down at McCoy's hand and the remote.

“His name's Scott, Scotty- he's called Scotty. If he doesn't know where Kirk is, he can find out. He can find out anything, for anyone. At a price, he always has a price. You'll have trouble finding him though, if he doesn't want to be found.”

“Don't you worry about that. And if you're lying-”

“I'm not, crap! I'm not! Do you think I get a kick outta getting electrocuted?”

“Alright, Harry. I'll tell you what.” McCoy let go of the chair arms, slowly switching off the switches on the remote one at a time, “I'll find this Scott in...”

“England. London!”

“London. Thank-you, Harry. You've been very helpful.” McCoy straightened up fully, turning around and starting to walk away.

“Wait! Aren't you going to let me outta here?” McCoy stopped and turned around to face Harry, a small smile forming.

“What kind of idiot do you think I am?”

******

_NYCPD Headquarters, 2056_

The room was dark, a single lamp on the table facing the window the only light, sending a pale blue glow over it's contents. A small computer screen sat in the middle, a few stacks of papers next to it. Several Padds sat with black screens, just waiting to be brought to life. A man sat in the darkness, looking at the screen with a weary eye.

"I understand, sir." He said softly, adjusting his glasses.

"No, Spock. I don't think you do. You let him go!"

"Let him go, sir? He escap-"

"Escaped, Hell! You _let_ him go, Spock." Spock closed his eyes for a moment, sighing as he took off his glasses and placed them on the table next to him.

"Yes, sir."

The man on the screen paused, a deliberately uncomfortable silence filling the room.

"The Brothers are getting concerned." Spock looked up at the screen.

"They are aware-"

"They are _always_ aware, Spock. Especially when it comes to matters of National importance. Like Kirk."

"Like Kirk." Spock repeated softly, "Yes sir. Do the Brothers want me to find him?"

"If you can." Spock winced slightly, but kept an impassive face. He was good at that. "Before Pike does. He's sent Coffin after Kirk, Spock. I believe you two are acquainted?"

"Sadly, yes. How much of a head-start does he have?"

"Our agents managed too..delay Mr Coffin. But he had some help." Spock glanced down at the table again, at a photo-frame that sat in the shadows, obscuring the picture from his view.

"I understand."

"Don't let that woman get in your way, Spock." Spock glanced back up again as the man frowned back at him, "Not like last time."

"Yes...sir." Spock replied. "I'll bring Kirk back." The screen went dead and Spock sat back in his chair. He reached towards the frame, bringing it out into the light. A beautiful smile shone from the photo, black hair waving in the wind. Much to her dismay. Spock smiled slightly, tracing the picture with his thumb. "I'm sorry, Nyota." He whispered softly. Opening a draw in the table, he carefully placed the frame inside, shutting and locking the draw on her smile. "So sorry." He turned off the lamp, casting the room in black.


	6. Confrontation

_London, 2056._

He was late. Again. Hikaru looked at his watch, sighing for what seemed like the hundredth time. _10 minutes_. That Russian idiot was ten minutes late! He frowned, picking up a small stone from the snow covered ground at his feet, throwing it into the river before him, watching as it hit the surface with a splash. It sent little ripples this way and that from its entry point, falling deep and out of his sight into the murky waters below. Much like them if Pavel didn't deliver. Hikaru glanced up, his eyes jumping from person to person, in one flowing movement. A mother standing with her young son, pointing and laughing at a duck in front of them. A man in a business suit reading a newspaper on a bench identical to Hikaru's a few feet away from him. A pair of gardeners fixing a broken water fountain. And more than a dozen other eyes, watching him from the shadows. Just waiting for him to make the next move. He knew that, they both knew what the risk was, meeting here in London. But when they weren’t safe anywhere in the world, why the Hell not London? After all, one could hardly expect safety, not when they do what they do for a living.

From where Hikaru sat, Pavel only had five minutes to walk to their meeting point, passing Hikaru's line of sight so that they knew the coast was clear. But he was late. Of all the jobs they'd ever done, of course this one was the one he'd be late on. He leaned forward on the bench, clasping his hands in front of him, his eyes fixed to the ground. He strained to block out all the common noises around him, imagining all the scenes he'd just pictured in his mind, placing every noise and every sound. He rubbed his knuckles with his fingers, listening as the one noise he needed to hear came closer and closer, out of sight but never out of mind. It came towards him, soft and silent, almost like a warning. Yes, that was the one. Hikaru allowed himself a little smile as he closed his eyes. Yeah, this would be fun. The noise stopped and Hikaru found his breathing stopped along with it, waiting for something, _anything_ , to happen. And they were insane if they thought that they were going to make the first move. Hikaru's heartbeat slowed as his instincts kicked in, and with one lightening quick movement, he was standing, gun raised in the face of the young mother. She stood before him, her face impassive as she matched his gun with a small one of her own. He glanced around him at the park. The business man continued to read, the boy still sat looking at the duck and the gardeners still swore at the fountain and he smiled. A walk in the park.

“Well, this is a surprise.” The woman cocked her head to the side, a slight smile forming. 

“It shouldn't be.” 

“It was a joke, lady. You know, sarcasm and all that.” 

“Oh,” She said, nodding slightly, “Right. Sarcasm. Got it.” Hikaru smiled, as the business man calmly flicked his paper over to the sports page. 

“I don't have it you know.” 

“I know. He's late isn't he?” The woman tut-tutted, her gun remaining aimed at his heart, “You really should have trained him better.” 

“I know. I'm ashamed, really I am. Deeply. And as soon as I see him next, I'll make sure to tell him that.” This time the woman smiled, cold and emotionless. 

“You could just do it yourself, you know.” 

“I know. But why would I, when I can just...delegate.” 

“We all know just how important this...traitor means to you, Mister Sulu.” Hikaru winced slightly, never once letting his gun waver in front of him. As much as he wished it would accidentally go off, he knew just how little that would benefit him. “Why do you let him hang around you like that?” He shrugged slightly. 

“He saved my life. It's probably something to do with these things called loyalty and respect, things you wouldn't understand I'm sure. I bet you don't get a lot of that, huh?” He smiled, relishing the brief display of emotion on her face as this time the woman winced, her gun quivering slightly. She placed her other hand over the gun to steady it, all emotion wiped away like bugs on a windshield. “It's tough sometimes, isn't? Needs two hands.” Hikaru moved his gun slightly, holding up his other free hand and shrugging. The woman narrowed her eyes. 

“This is pointless. I'm here on be-” 

“I know who sent you.” 

“And?” 

“And the answer is still no. I don't work for anybody, except for myself. I told him that, three times.” 

“You worked for Pike, didn't you?” He frowned, glancing to his right where the business man sat, paper in his lap as he watched Hikaru with an impassive stare. 

“That's in the past. I don't work for anybody. Any more. And for any reason.” 

“Even if it means your lives?” 

“Is that a threat, sweetheart?” The woman smiled, lowering her gun. 

“No, just a friendly warning.” Hikaru lowered his gun, watching the woman with caution as she put her gun away and turned. “He's a very patient man, Mister Sulu. He'll give you both one more chance to work with him. You know he'll take very good care of you.” 

“That's what I'm afraid of.” 

“It's your choice,” The woman said, shrugging as she turned and walked away, “One way or another, you’ll never get your hands on Kirk alone.” 

“What makes you think I'd even want to go after him?” The woman paused, looking over her shoulder at Hikaru, “Because you'll never make it alive if you don't.” 

******

_NYCPD Training Facility, 2050.  
_

Kirk watched with interest, as his 'savior' talked with yet another cadet, looking him up and down in what he assumed was his customary look of disdain. McCoy nodded at the cadet, handing him what looked like a stack of papers and walking away. Jim didn't wait to see what the cadet had, instead he went with his gut instinct, jogging after McCoy as he walked away.

“Hey!” McCoy stopped, almost like he knew Jim would follow him, turning around with that irritating frown on his face. 

“Yes? What is it kid? I don't have time to save your life today, alright? Try me tomorrow.” 

“Hey!” Jim grabbed his arm, turning him around. McCoy pulled his arm away, frowning even harder at Jim. 

“What do you want, kid?” Jim took a step closer. 

“I want in.” McCoy raised his eyes at Jim, looking him up and down. 

_“In?”_ He repeated, a small smiled appearing. “In what?” 

“Whatever it is that you're in.” 

“And what makes you think that I'm _in_ anything?” 

“I've seen you around, McCoy. You're recruiting people, and I want in.” 

“Ah-ha. And what if it's the Girl Scouts? Still interested? You'd fit right in, I'd bet.” 

“Were you born this cranky or does it come with a lot of work?” 

“Oh, it takes work kid. Work and people like you.” 

“Look, I want in.” McCoy turned to face Jim, “I don't care what it is.” Jim took a step closer, receiving another disapproving glare in return, “I want in. I'm better than this.” 

“Better?” McCoy scoffed, “Better than what, Kirk?” 

“That's not what I meant. Look,” Jim sighed, “Just give me a break, ok? I can take it, whatever this is, I can. Just let me prove it.” 

“Your place is right here. What I'm,” McCoy sighed, “ _In_ isn't for you. Not yet anyway." 

“Oh, come on man! Give me a chance. I won't need saving again.” 

“Oh you will, Kirk.” McCoy nodded as he turned to walk away, “Trust me, you will.” 


	7. Contact

_London Central Airport, London, 2056._

The terminal was crowded with people, going to and fro but never really going anywhere, all busy with their unimportant lives, just _doing_ what they had to in order to survive. McCoy stopped in front of the baggage claim area, leaning all his weight on his good leg as another shot of pain radiated from his injury. He dug around in his jacket pocket, the little bottle of pain pills rattling as he pulled them out, unscrewing the lid and shaking two into his hand. He shook it to loosen the small pills, pausing as he sensed a pair of eyes watching him. He slowly turned his head, looking down, his eyes landing on a small boy, staring up at him with innocent curiosity.

"Are you a drug addict?"

"What's it to you?"

"My dad says anyone who takes those," he pointed a finger at McCoy's hand, shaking his head, "Is a drug addict." McCoy sighed, looking at the pills before popping them into his mouth, depositing the little jar back into his pocket, before turning back to the boy.

"Did your dad also tell you not to talk to strangers?"

"They're not good for you, those things."

"Look kid, do I look like I care?"

"Do you ever smile?"

"Would you get out of here!"

The boy started, running away and leaving McCoy alone. He sighed again, rolling his eyes. "Damn kids."

"Curious little so and so, isn't he?" This time McCoy started, grabbing his leg and trying to control the wince from the pain the movement caused.

"What is this, Grand Central Station?" He exclaimed, turning to look at the man who had somehow sneaked up on him. The man wore a janitors uniform, dark blue with a small white insignia on the breast pocket. He held a broom in one hand and made little motions on the ground in front of him. He stopped and glanced up at McCoy.

"No, but an interesting fact about that-"

"I don't care!" McCoy interrupted, "Do I look like I give a damn?"

"Well, n-no," The man stammered, shrugging, "I just thought-"

"Well, don't. It's obviously not your strong point."

"I think I should be offended at that." The man started, taking a jerky step back as McCoy glared at him, "B-but I won't. No, no it-it's perfectly fine. And true too!"

"Did you want something?"

"Ah yes, yes I did. Do."

"And?" The man frowned, the proverbial light dawning as he clicked his fingers.

"Ah, right yes. You want it now. Ah..." He juggled the broom from hand to hand, digging around in his pockets, "Ah here, would-would you take this for a mintute." McCoy rolled his eyes, snatching the broom the man held out to him, "Thanks. Ju-just, won't be a minute."

"Who the _Hell_ are you?"

The man looked up from his rummaging, a surprised look on his face.

"I'm your contact."

"My con - my what?"

"Your contact. They did tell you I was meeting you here, didn't they?" The man leaned forward lowering his voice. "You asked for information on one Mont-"

"Yes I know," McCoy interrupted, shoving the broom back into his hands and pulling a piece of paper that was sticking out from the man's top pocket, "I was the one who _asked_ for it, idiot!" He shook his head, glancing around before focusing on the paper in his hand. He read its contents and re-read it before nodding. "Is this it?" He asked, glancing at the man who stammered before shaking his head, opening his mouth with the beginning of an answer, "Is _this_ it?" McCoy repeated, holding up the paper. He turned around with a limp, closing the distance between them and calmly holding up the paper for the man to see. "Can you read this?" He asked, pointing at the three words typewritten in the center of the paper.

"Well, yeah." McCoy raised his eyes at him, silently telling him to continue. The man visibly swallowed, "It says _Marion Scott, Ex-Wife_."

"Very good, I'm impressed. Now maybe you can tell me where the _information_ that I asked for _is_?"

"Frank." The man said quickly, swallowing again. McCoy nodded.

"I could care less. Where is it? This," He shook the paper in the man's face, "Isn't it."

"It isn't?"

"It isn't." McCoy repeated, folding the paper and placing it gently back into Frank's pocket, patting the outside before taking another step closer. Frank shrunk back as McCoy leveled his face with his. "You know who I am?" Frank nodded.

"You're Ray Coffin, one of Pike's mob. You're one of the best-"

"Not one," McCoy said, "Am the best."

"You're not threatening me, are ya?" Frank asked, his voice wavering, "Cause - cause, I don't know anything else, Mister Coffin sir, I swear! They said all that you need is right there. You'll find Scott thru her." McCoy nodded again, straightening Frank's collar.

"I believe you." He said, Frank watching McCoy's hands with trepidation, "I do. And if you ever sneak up on me like that again," He paused, patting Frank's collar and glancing around, turning back to face Frank again, "I will separate your spine from the rest of your body without making a hole. Understand?" Frank nodded vigorously.

"Yes, y-yes sir!" McCoy nodded, and took a step back, turning just in time as his bag rolled around the turn table in front of him. He picked it up, swinging it over his shoulder and turning to glance back at Frank.

"You missed a spot." He indicated to the floor at Frank's feet, who promptly looked down mouth open. McCoy smiled, turning and limply slightly away.

  
******

  
_Near Shiloh House, London, 2056_

"Bye-bye, mate." Pavel let his eyes close, his head falling into the blanket of snow that surrounded him. A deep silence filled the air, a slight ringing sounding thru his mind as two small pops rang like bells in the distance. Two? Why were there two? And why was everything so cold still? Wasn't it supposed to get warmer when one died? "Pavel." A tiny voice whispered in his ear, but sleep was so nice. Sleep. Solid, uninterrupted sleep. Pure sleep. "Pavel." _Sleep_. It had seemed like an eternity since he'd slept, _really_ slept. "Pavel!" Pavel started as the cold feeling around his head shifted, his body feeling like it was being lifted from the ground. And everything became warmer. Ah, so this is what dying felt like. At least it was warmer now. "Pavel!" His eyes flew open and he coughed, gagging as the snow in his mouth turned into water. He rolled to the side, spitting out the freezing water before falling onto his back. "What the _Hell_!" He exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut and grabbing his leg. "You hit me!"

"Yeah, well," Sulu replied, holding onto Pavel's arm like he was afraid he might suddenly fall into the ground, "You were asleep." Pavel forced his eyes to open, slowly raising his hand, to see it covered in blood.

"Please don't tell me that's mine?" Pavel asked, dropping his arm and taking deep breaths.

"Ok," Sulu replied, "I won't. Come on." He grabbed Pavel by the arm, heaving him up, "We've got to get out of here." Pavel groaned, letting Sulu pull him up to his feet. He staggered, touching his wound with his hand again. "Here," Sulu said, leaning Pavel against him as he struggled out of his jacket. He balled the jacket up, pressing it hard against the wound. Pavel gritted his teeth, readjusting his weight as Sulu slung Pavel's arm around his neck and grabbed his waist, pulling him away. He looked down around him as they went, the two bodies of the men laying face down on the snow covered ground, small patches of dark red under each.

"Lousy shots." Pavel said, pressing the jacket harder into his wound as Sulu practically dragged him down the street and into an alleyway opposite Shiloh. Sulu laughed, readjusting his hold on Pavel as he began to slip.

"Yeah, like you could've done any better."

"Ya. I could've. Probably."

"Sure, Pavel. Sure." Sulu paused at the end of the alley, turning his head back as he heard the sound of voices behind them. He turned back around. "We're not making it to the van. Not unless you can start jogging anytime soon."

"Not likely." Pavel replied. He looked around, feeling his body start to sag, the warmth of earlier gradually being replaced by a bone chilling cold. He looked ahead across the snow covered side road and indicated with his head. "What about that?" He asked, transferring his weight to his good leg. Sulu looked where Pavel was indicating, to an abandoned service station which sat covered in snow and disuse, the old pumps almost completely covered by ice. The doors were all boarded up, but even from where they stood, gaps were obvious, with black slits the only view from inside. Sulu shrugged.

"It'll do. Come on." He pulled Pavel with him and across the road, each step painfully slower than the last one. Finally they reached the building, Sulu pausing outside the small door off to the side from the main entrance, his breaths coming out in visible, white puffs in the cold air. He leaned Pavel against the wall and taking a step back, he kicked the door, sending it flying open, little slivers of old wood flying up and out from the sudden impact. Pavel turned his face away, blinking at Sulu.

"You couldn't have tried the knob?" Sulu looked at him and raised his rolled his eyes.

"Do I look like a knob kind of guy to you?" He grabbed Pavel and walked him inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He squinted, trying to bring the darkened room into focus. The door had led them into the warehouse part of the station, a bunch of old crates and a rusting car hulk the only things left standing. Sulu led Pavel over to the nearest crate and sat him down, kneeling down to the floor next to him. "How's it feeling?"

"You're kidding me right?" Pavel asked, carefully pulling the jacket away to inspect the wound. "It hurts like the..." His English trailed off, as a string of Russian kicked in. Sulu sighed and patted Pavel on the arm before standing up.

"I'm gonna want that jacket back, by the way."

"You would."

"I spoke to some of his...friends before." Sulu rubbed his hands, blowing hot air to defrost them any way he could, "She was sorry to have missed you."

"She?" Pavel repeated, leaning back against the wall the crate was stacked against, "Was she cute?" Sulu shrugged.

"Her gun was though. You would've liked it." Pavel smiled, closing his eyes. "Hey, just-don't go to sleep, ok?" Sulu asked, shaking Pavel gently on the arm. Pavel opened his eyes, nodding slowly.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

"Shut up."

"I'm sorry?" Pavel asked incredulously, "And here I was thinking we were having a moment there."

"Did you hear that?" Sulu asked, straining to see anything in the near pitch black beyond them, "It sounded like-"

"Shit?" Pavel nodded, "Ya, I though that was you."

"Me, I've never bloody well swore in my life." Pavel chuckled and Sulu reached for his gun, withdrawing it and nodding at Pavel. "Stay here."

"Oh you think?" Sulu sighed, carefully picking his way thru the dark.

"Shit." He stepped around a crate, raising his gun in front of him. He stopped, lowering his gun slightly at the figure face down on the floor. " _Shit._ " He said again, rolling over slowly and seemingly painfully onto on his back, hands covering his face. Sulu took a tentative step closer, lowering his gun further but not completely as the man ran his hands down his face. "Shit!"

"You've already said that." The man jumped up, staggering to his feet, his hand reaching for where a gun obviously should have been, squinting as his hand came up empty. He looked back at Sulu, still finding his balance, his bloodshot eyes squinting at Sulu. "Let me guess, shit?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so firstly, i'd like to apologize to you all for the lateness of this update. it's terrible, isn't? secondly, i'd like to thank my lovely readers who comment on every _single_ lousy update that i make, without fail. thanks so much guys (you know who you are!), you keep me writing!! and thirdly, after this chapter i won't be able to make another update for at least a month, maybe two. i **am** going to finish this thing (even if it kills me!!), but i have just so many things going on right now, it's not funny, and so many wips  & deadlines that i just can't focus on one fic (as much as i'd looooove to just write _mortals_ , i can't). i'll continue to write the chapters when i can. and lastly, i'd love to write a _thank you_ fic to anyone who's interested (especially my above lovelies!) so if you'd like something in particular (trek? non-trek? mckirk? mirror!verse? i don't mind, but  no smut please!) please shoot me a message [here](http://wynndelany.tumblr.com/ask) or just comment below. thanks so much all and happy reading! :)


	8. Interrogations

_Somewhere in London, 2056_

"For the love of all things holy man, what the devil are you doing?" Scott looked at the man before him, holding his weapon in the kill position, a shaking hand aimed between Scott's eyes.

"D-doing? I don't really understand the question."

"You don't really - he doesn't really understand the question. Bloody hell, what is the world coming to? Would you put that gun down, we're not in the Wild West!" The man shifted, stepping to the side.

"What? No! No, this is a holdup."

"A holdup," Scott repeated, "A _holdup_?" He nodded, shaking his head. "You're kidding me right?" The gun cocked, the other man taking a shaky step forward.

"I want my money back, you piece of sh-"

"Okay," Scott held out a hand, chuckling uneasily, "I think I get the picture mate. What makes you think I have your money?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Well, no. I wouldn't say a total idiot, no."

"I didn't say total idiot."

"Oh, you didn't? In that case, yes," he nodded again, "I would say you're a total idiot."

"Shut up! Are you gonna give me my money or what?"

"Ah..." he narrowed his eyes, shrugging slightly, "No? You mustn't have read the fine print. No refunds or exch-" The man lowered his gun, grabbing Scott's neck and pushing him backwards, slamming his head back into the hard concrete wall.

"That's it, you're dead." Scott grabbed the man's hand with his own, trying in vain to release the stronghold around his neck.

"Now, let's not be hasty about this." He practically croaked, the man's face beginning to relax, the first sign of victory appearing in his eyes.

"Oh it's a little late for begging, don't you think?" He cocked his head, smiling at Scott, raising his gun upwards, his eyes lighting up with pleasure as Scott's turned wide. "I expected more from you. Maybe you're not the best after all." His smile slowly disappeared as his face froze, eyes glassy as he looked down to where Scott's hand held a knife deep into his stomach.

"You really should have read the fine print mate." He pried the man's hand from his throat, grabbing his side as he groaned, falling forwards, a trail of red beginning to trickle from his mouth. Scott leaned forward, tapping him on the shoulder. "No refunds." He withdrew the knife in one quick motion, pushing the man's lifeless body to the ground, his startled eyes staring into dead space. He over slightly, looking down at the man. He cocked his head to the side, gingerly probing his neck.

"You have good reflexes. I'm mildly impressed." Scott paused his probing, eyes traveling upwards. A figure sat in the shadows, watching him like he was some kind of exhibit. Silence filled the musty room as Scott squinted his eyes to adjust to the darkness, looking the shadowy figure up and down. He stopped his inspection, eyes settling on the man's face. 

"Should I take that as a compliment then?" He resumed his probing, glancing down at the bloody knife in his hand. He grimaced, dropping the knife and sending sharp echoes in the room as the metal blade hit the warehouse ground, wiping his hand on his pant leg. He squinted back into the darkness, stepping over the dead body at his feet. "And would you come out of the shadows man? What are you, a bat?" He continued wiping his hand as he watched the man limp slightly out of the shadows, a grimace appearing on his watcher's stubbled face. The man stopped in front of him, looking him up and down, settling his gaze on Scott's still bloody hand.

"You missed a spot." He looked back up into Scot's eyes. Scott nodded, his mouth open.

"Ah-huh." He turned slightly, indicating with his head behind him, to where the knife lay in a bloody pool on the ground. "Do I need to pick that up again?"

"I wouldn't advise it."

"Who the _Hell_ are you?"

"You can call me Ray."

"R-Ray? As in Coffin?"

"Yeah that Ray. I understand you're the man to help me." Scott crossed his arms.

"That all depends. Are you gonna kill me afterwards?" Bones rolled his eyes.

"Not unless I'm provoked. Or in a bad mood." Scott narrowed his eyes.

"I suppose you've talked to her then?"

"Your charming wife? We had...words."

"You didn't kill her, did you?"

"Hell no!"

"Pity." Scott shrugged, "Whatever it is, Ray," he clapped Bones on the shoulder, "I'll do it. Heard so many good things about you." Bones slowly looked down at the hand on his shoulder, raising his eyes at Scott. "Want me to move that? I can move that. See?" He held up his hand, turning it over. "See, now we're partners."

"I work alone."

"On what?"

"Finding Kirk."

"No way on God's green earth."

"You said anything."

"Well, you didn't mention that, now did you? Start off with that first, I'm just saying!"

"I see you didn't read my find print," Bones stepped forward until he was face to face with Scott, "I'm not asking."

"Funny, you just asked-"

"You're helping me or I won't shoot your wife. Deal?" Scott squinted, shaking his head.

"Have you ever considered a Tic Tac?"

\------

_NYCPD Interrogation Room 3, New York City, 2056_

The room was dark, the walls black and emitted the feeling of claustrophobia. The only furniture in the room a metal table and chair, old school in appearance save for the glowing blue, neon tubes that held the chair's occupant's hands to the hard surface of the table.

"You've done some good work here, Uhura." Uhura smiled, staring straight ahead, her unruly hair sticking to her skin as the blood dried on her forehead.

"I don't answer to that name anymore."

"And what do you answer to?" She sat in silence, her eyes watching as a spider crawled on the opposite wall. "Very well. Maybe you'd like to tell me where Kirk is then?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Come on, Uhura. We picked you up after you rescued Coffin. We know he's been tasked as Kirk's keeper."

"Then he's doing a shit job of it." Uhura's head hit the table, sending shooting pains thru her whole body. Her head swam, blood trickling from old and fresh wounds alike, the bitter taste quickly filling her mouth as she bit down on her tongue. A hand pressed down on her neck, forcing her face to press even further into the cold metal surface. "Come on," a cold voice filled her ears, "I just need a name then this will all be over. One name, that's all." The hand shoved her one last time, the pressure slowly decreasing. Uhura sat slowly up, keeping her eyes closed, rolling her head side to side as she shifted in her seat. Opening her eyes slowly, she cleared her throat, focusing her eyes once again on the spider. "Why are you protecting them? It's not like they left you to die in Afghanistan. Oh wait, they did. Twice." She remained still, her eyes not moving from the spider.

"I don't protect anybody." She slowly replied, "Except myself."

"And you're doing a shit of a job of it." She smiled slowly, turning her gaze to the man.

"You have no idea." He gritted his teeth as she continued to smile.

"You're a piece of work, you know that?" Uhura shrugged, looking him up and down before turning back to the spider.

"I know." Uhura closed her eyes as her head hit the table one last time.


	9. Imprint

**_Kirk, James T. – 9:58am._**

“What do you see James?”

“What do I see?”

“Yes, what can you see?”

“I can see an idiot in a monkey suit.”

“You think that's funny, James?”

“Yeah, kinda. Don't like it? Give me as sec, I'll come up with a better-”

“Focus James. What. Do. You. See?”

“I see a room.”

“Is it this room?”

“What other room do you see?”

“That's not the room you can see James.”

“It's not?”

“No.”

“Wow, because this room is the only room I can see right now-”

“That's not it James.”

“A-Are you in my head? Because if you were-”

“Just focus James, focus on the other room.”

“There is no other room you son of a b-”

  
**_10:05am_**

“What do you see now James?”

“I-I can see a room.”

“A room?”

“Yes, damn it a room!”

“Is it still the same room?”

“Y-yes, its dark in here I can't-”

“It's not dark, James.”

“It's all black in here. What was that-you gave me-”

“Just calm down. Tell me about the room. It's black, isn't it?”

“I can't-I can't see.”

“Try James.”

“It-it's all moving.”

“James, stay on the chair. James, _James_ can you hear me? Stay where you are James!”

  
**_10:12am_**

“It's all moving.”

“I know it is. Tell me what you see, where you are. You're in your apartment aren't you James?”

“I-it's home, I'm home now.”

“That's good James. What can you see?”

“This can't be real. It's all so dark, why is it dark? I paid the bills.”

“James. James listen to me. Follow my voice.”

“I hear it.”

“You hear me James?”

“I can-I see something. Oh my-Hell! He-hell, it's Carol! Carol, she-she's not moving she's- oh Hell, no!”

“James.”

“She's bleeding, there's-blood, there's _blood_ everywhere!”

“James, is there any blood on your hands?”

“I c-can't-

“James! There's blood on your hands.”

“No-no!”

“Yes, James. There is blood on your hands. You just killed Carol.”

“Shit, no! I found her. I found her like this, sh-she's not-”

“James...”

  
**_10:19am_**

“Ok, James. Help is on the way. What are you going to tell them when they ask you what happened, James?”

“I killed her.”

“You did, James. You killed her. But that's okay, you were just doing your job weren’t you?”

“My job.”

“Yes James, the Admiral will be pleased with what you've done. Well done, James.”

**_End of recordings. ___**

**********

_The day before the murder, the buildings of MP Industries, New York Central Park._ “How did our boy do?” The Doctor stood impassively before the massive desk, the occupant behind it cast in shadows.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” There was a pause and he swallowed despite himself.

“Are you sure it will work?”

“I told you there might be complications. We've never successfully completed a test like this, not this long term. He might forgot all this, or remember what's really going to happen. There might be-”

“Will. It. _Work?_ ” He looked into the shadows, a chill creeping into his bones. He nodded once, sure that the Admiral would see him and his discomfort, despite the shadows.

“Then I'm sure. Look, Doctor, you have a choice here.”

“A choice?”

“Of course.” A small laugh came from the shadows, “What kind of animal do you think I am? You could walk away now, never have to see this place again.”

“Walk away?” He asked quietly, knowing what the answer to his question would be before it exited his mouth.

“Of course. Walk away, the experiment will be cancelled,” again a chill passed down his spine and he swallowed, fixing his eyes on the floor. “And you will never see your wife again.” Silence filled the room, the shadows shifting and the small antique clock on the wall marking off the time that the Doctor had left. A sigh came from the shadows then a pause before a voice filled the room, not loudly but silently, deadly.  
“When James Kirk walks out of here tomorrow, I want him-no, I _need_ him to believe what we've told him. That he shot my daughter in cold blood. Is that going to happen?” The Doctor swallowed once again, feeling the weight of his world sinking around him. He could walk away, he could pretend this never happened and Kirk could go jump off a cliff for her he'd care. But there wasn’t a chance in hell that that was going to happen. He had no choice and the pain he felt course through him confirmed that. He nodded once, yet again confident that the shadow could see him.

“He will, Admiral Marcus. I promise.”

**********

_The day of the murder, Hyde Park, New York City._

Spock sat on the park bench, the world moving around him like a dark sea of lives. Not that he noticed. He already lived in darkness. One master on his right shoulder, telling him who to kill, whose pockets to line and when to look the other way, and another master on his left, whispering in his ear who to save, whose pockets to rip out and when to turn back. He looked up from his pad in his lap, as his next target came into sight. Dark blue suit and tie, a little wrinkled, but when a guy was in the line of work that Spock's target was, a little wrinkling really didn't matter to anyone. Spock studied the man's approaching figure, intrigued about this target.

James Kirk didn't look like the type of man that would need a three organization hit on his head. Sure, he'd ruffled his fair share of feathers, but all three organizations wanting him either captured with all measures authorized or dead as dead could be? Spock had been studying Kirk since Pike had told him about the new target on Kirk's head. He had a special interest in this one, why Spock didn't know and quite frankly didn’t care. The less he knew about his targets, the better.

Kirk stopped by a coffee truck, the same everyday, flirted with the girl behind the counter, then accepted his coffee (black, three sugars) along with his daily assignment wrapped up around a doughnut. He then walked to the subway station, throwing away his coffee and doughnut wrapper at an assigned bin, right next to Spock's seat. Not that Spock wanted to see what Kirk's new, however short-lived, assignment was to be. What Spock wanted was Kirk. He approached the bench, oblivious to Spock, until he was almost in front of him. Spock kept his gaze fixed on his pad, standing quickly up and bumping straight into Kirk.

“Shit man, come on!” He exclaimed as the hot coffee hit him. “This is a brand new suit!”

“Sorry, really,” Spock said, holding up his hands, playing the apologetic innocent, “Sorry, I-I can pay for a new one, dry cleaning. Really,” He moved as if he was reaching towards his wallet, hand slightly shaking as though visibly shaken by the ordeal. Kirk held out his hand, shaking his head and lobbing his now empty cup at the bin.

“Don't worry about it,” He replied, “Sorry for going off at 'ya.”

“My fault, my fault entirely.” Spock said, smiling as he backed away slowly, “Sorry again.” Kirk nodded back and turned, walking away. Spock walked in the opposite direction, the apologetic innocent long gone. Kirk was marked, the 'incident' as Pike had called it soon to occur in Kirk's life could go on however Pike planned it to go and Spock's part in it hopefully long over. He didn't like getting involved in 'incidents' such as this, not when he knew how they inevitably turned out. He tucked his pad into his pocket, withdrawing his badge and pinning it onto his waist band. One job done, another one to go.


End file.
